


Thank You, Rose Tyler.

by Anyaparadox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Background Relationships, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Doctor Who References, F/M, M/M, Mates, Oblivious Stiles, Porn, Romance, Sort of? - Freeform, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:04:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anyaparadox/pseuds/Anyaparadox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles accidentally manages to become Derek's best friend through one texting mishap. It's all fine, except for the part where Stiles is kind of hopelessly in love with his Alpha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three Quarters Deep

**Author's Note:**

> The first part before the first line break have some spoilers for Doctor Who if you haven't seen all of Donna and Rose! Skip to the line break if you don't want to know.

He didn't mean for it to happen, and the instant it did he expected a swift and terrible death. He panicked at first, flailing as he usually did when shit like this happened to him. He managed to overturn his desk chair and break a small statue of a cat that Scott had given him for who the fuck knows why. When he calmed down enough to right the chair and find his cell phone that he had flung under his bed he re-read the text.

_‘I hate this show she loves him and he loves her and he locks her in an alternate universe so she can be happy like WHAT IS THIS!? :(‘_

It's not even that bad. Not as bad as the time he had asked about werewolf mating patterns and Isaac had read Scott's texts and no one except Lydia had talked to him for a week. That had been terrible. At least this text he can pass off as basic gibberish without explaining the whole time-loop-parallel-universe-tenth-Doctor thing. Really, Stiles wouldn't even panic, except for one tiny detail.

He had sent it to Derek. Stiles wasn't even sure why he had Derek's phone number, but he knew for a fact the only times he had used it someone had either been bleeding out and dying, or was about to be. So, suffice to say, Stiles was expecting a swift death sentence, most likely one that destroyed his every chance of seeing the 50th anniversary episode. Damn.

His phone vibrated. Stiles felt his heart enter his stomach, curling miserably around the pasta he had eaten for dinner. He thought of his father and wished he had lectured him on the value of lettuce one last time.

"I'm assuming that this was meant for Scott, and no one is currently dying."

Derek is a merciful and pleasant man and Stiles takes back every bad thing he has ever said about him, ever.

"Yeah, sorry, got too excited and sent it too quick." Stiles doesn't even add in smiley faces, even though it nearly pains him not to. Derek wouldn't appreciate an emoticon rubbing its happiness in his face.

"It's fine. And it just gets worse, wait till Donna."

This is the moment that Stiles suddenly realizes that Derek probably doesn't have a lot of people to text, and he might just --possibly, only a tiny bit-- be way cooler than Stiles ever imagined. So he sucks it up and texts him back. The conversation, if you could call it that, doesn't really last much longer, but Stiles feels strangely accomplished when Derek manages to tell him to "go the fuck to sleep" and it doesn't even seem like a threat anymore.

* * *

  

It continues this way, and not entirely on accident this time. Stiles comes home after a particularly ridiculous lacrosse practice in which Scott ignored and bailed on him again for Allison, and finds a hot cup of hot chocolate sitting on his desk in a TARDIS mug, one he had most definitely not had before. He grins ridiculously and sits down to drink it, pulling out his cell phone as he goes.

'Thanks for the mug, it's super cool :)'

'Enjoy.'

'Next time hang around!'

'Why? Do you have an update?'

Stiles isn't exactly sure why he's surprised considering he knows for a fact they have a tenuous friendship at best, but he thought that Derek knew he was a part of that tenuous friendship.

'Dude, friends hang out sometimes, even without updates :)'

Derek doesn't answer, and Stiles manages to fall asleep without too much of a freakout.

* * *

 

Three days later Derek is sitting in his chair when he walks into his room. Stiles would like to think that he manages to enter super gracefully and look smoking hot doing it, but in actuality he flails a bit, shuts his door and then manages to scream-whisper

"Holy shit, Derek, I have a front door!" He calms his racing heart, and by the eye-roll Derek sends him Stiles imagines he has heard his almost heart-attack from a mile away. He throws his school bag to the side and flops to his bed.

"I texted you to let you know." Derek manages, looking entirely too in control for someone who has been stalking around his room for who knows how long.

Stiles grabs for his phone, and sure enough he has three missed texts, two are from Derek. It might be the most action his phone has ever seen, and probably the most words Derek has ever typed. The first one says, 'I'm coming over', and the second one says, 'I'm picking up food, want anything?'. The third message is from Scott and all it says is 'sry, cant com ovr, Allison wnts 2 hang'; Stiles notices that the only thing Scott manages to spell with any sense of grammatical correctness is Allison, and thinks that Scott probably had to practice that. Stiles wishes he didn't feel such a flare of resentment when he thought about his best friend, but it's there anyway and he can't help it.

"Sorry, missed the texts, Harris doesn't let cell phones out. Did you bring food?" Stiles asks, tossing his cell to the side without answering Scott. It wasn't like he would read it anyway.

Derek frowned, "No, you didn't answer."

Stiles shrugs, "Whatever, lets order pizza, my Dad's not back till late anyway so he won't even be sad he doesn't get any."

Derek tilts his head and Stiles has never seen him look so much like a puppy. He doesn't say anything, not wanting to have his spine ripped out through his body. "You realize your dad's heart is strong and healthy, right?"

Stiles manages not to fall off the bed, but he has never been so absolutely grateful in his entire life, "For real!? His doctor tells him he has high cholesterol all the time."

"I can't hear anything wrong, his heart is steadier than yours will ever be and he smells healthy."

It's the most words Stiles has ever heard Derek say and he beams, "Dude, you are amazing and making my week right now. Pizza is totally my treat."

He orders biggest, meatiest pizza the shop has and it gets there in fifteen minutes. Surprisingly, hanging with Derek isn’t that awkward, he mostly just flings his school stuff everywhere and goes to the bathroom and throws on sweats, and Derek fiddles with a book on his desk. Stiles makes conversation, mostly to himself, and Derek throws in a few grunts of agreement at random. It's a beautiful friendship already, and Stiles doesn't exactly know how he managed to get thrown into it.

They eat the pizza in the living room and Stiles tosses on some stupid reality show about stunts. Stiles eats three pieces and Derek inhales the rest, and it's slightly terrifying but also kind of adorable the way he reaches back for one more slice when he ate the last one already.

"There's food in the fridge if you're still hungry," Stiles says, "although, now I'm more worried about the state of your heart health than my father's."

Derek growls at him, but it's half-hearted, "Werewolves have really fast metabolisms. I'm good."

Stiles sits in silence for a moment, then: "Do you think you could win this stunt show? I bet it wouldn't even be hard. Let's get you to go in it and you could win and then we could buy you a real place."

Derek rolls his eyes, "I don't need money."

"Says the dude who lives in a broken house and an abandoned train station." Stiles mutters, "What do you even do all day? Lurk and stalk probably. Work out a lot."

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek grumbles. Stiles lets it rest for the moment, getting caught up in the show. When it’s over he puts the plates and pizza box away and Derek follows him up to his room like a shadow.

For the first time Stiles can remember, Derek seems unsure. He shifts his weight around for a bit, and bites his lip, and Stiles thinks that he might have super inappropriate dreams about the lip bite.

“Thanks.” Derek says, and before Stiles can even dream up a response Derek is long gone out the window.

“I have a front door!” Stiles manages to choke out several minutes later.

 

* * *

 

 

It continues in this fashion, and Stiles stops feeling weird about it and starts embracing the fact that while Scott might be ignoring him, he does have someone to text. Derek still isn’t a big talker, but usually once a day his phone will vibrate with some new message, or at least a response to something Stiles sent him.

Right now he’s in history, and the only thing that’s keeping him awake is Derek texting him. Scott keeps glancing at him weirdly, and Stiles is attempting to ignore him. He only talks to him in history because Allison isn’t in the class.

_‘Scott is being stupid.’_ Stiles informs Derek. 

Derek’s response is surprisingly quick, _‘as usual...’._

Stiles grins at Derek’s words, but he doesn’t expect the second text to follow so quickly: _‘he’s a bad friend. want me to talk to him?’_

It’s sort of a surprise that Derek would even offer, but recently Stiles has started to think that maybe he’s Derek’s only friend. He would never voice it, of course, but it isn’t hard to see that even Derek’s betas don’t want to hang out very often. Everyone only calls when they need help, and that can be lonely.

Stiles would know.

_‘nah, it’s cool. wanna hang later?’_

Derek usually only answers these texts with a yes or no, and Stiles tries not to push. Today’s different though, and Stiles tries to slow his heartbeat so Scott stops staring at him.

_‘yeah, i gotta show you something.’_

 

* * *

  

Stiles is trying to hurry home after school, and he managed not to get detention with Harris, so he’s doing well until Scott corners him by his Jeep.

“What are you doing?” 

“Going home,” Stiles replies, “just like you should.”

Scott scowls, “You’re up to something.”

Stiles opens his door, tossing his backpack into his Jeep, “Scott, I’m not up to something.”

“Then who are you texting?”

Stiles glances back at him, anger firing up, “You know, Scott, you’re not my only friend. Just because we haven’t been hanging out doesn’t mean I’ve been sitting at home alone.”

He slams the door in his best friend’s face and roars out of the parking lot, making it to his house in record time. The police cruiser isn’t there which isn’t really a surprise since Stiles knew his dad was at the station for tonight.

He’s still angry by the time he makes it up to his room and flops on his bed face first. Scott is an idiot sometimes, and Stiles wouldn’t have stayed friends with him all these years if he hadn’t realized that early on. Though, Scott usually manages to make up for his idiocy by being a good friend.

“Bad day?” Derek’s voice surprises him from the window and Stiles rolls to his side to face the Alpha climbing into his bedroom. Derek looks even hotter than usual today, and Stiles wonders why he has absolutely no survival sense, what with hanging out with werewolves and lusting after everyone totally out of his league.

“Just Scott. Thinks I’m up to something.” 

Derek frowns, “Are you?”

“No, dude,” Stiles sighs and sits up, “I’m hanging out with you and Scott can’t figure it out.”

“Why you’re hanging with me?” Derek’s face is expressionless, but Stiles has gotten to know him pretty well recently and he’s sure he accidentally hurt Derek’s feelings,

“No, no, Derek, come on. He’s confused cause he can’t figure out _who_ I’m hanging out with and texting. I don’t really have that many friends, you know?” Stiles flushes at the admission, but it’s not like it hasn’t occurred to Derek that he’s hanging with the school outcast.

Derek scoffs, “You have lots of friends.”

“Dude, I have Scott. And by extension, Allison. And you, now.”

Derek grimaces, “Stiles, you don’t see clearly. Every damn person in the pack adores you. You have Lydia, Isaac, Boyd, Scott, Allison and me. Even Danny likes you.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “You are hallucinating. I mean, they’re cool, and they put up with me. But we aren’t buds. I hang out with you more than anyone else. Even Scott, nowadays.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, but his face kind of brightens, and he comes to sit on Stiles bed. He’s silent for a long time, and for once Stiles doesn’t fill the silence. Derek looks like he’s thinking about something pretty big, and Stiles doesn’t like to interrupt when Derek’s about to talk.

“I have to show you something.” Derek says again.

Stiles grins, “You told me, what is it?”

Derek clears his throat, and Stiles notices the tips of his ears go red. “I don’t actually have to... well- I don’t have- I _want_ to show you something. If that’s okay?”

Stiles curiosity is invariably peaked at this point, and he leans forward eagerly, “Of course, dude. What is it?”

Derek is staring at the floor, “We have to go out to my house.”

Stiles doesn’t like Derek’s old house very much, not that he can’t see how beautiful it once was. He sees it too clearly, in the skeleton of ashes and char, how the house used to be huge and white; each room teeming with life and laughter, Laura and Cora tumbling down the stairs and stealing the remote from Derek as they flopped together on the couch.

He doesn’t need to have seen a picture of Laura to imagine it. 

“Okay,” Stiles says slowly. He wants to see whatever Derek has to show him, “Can I drive?”

Derek digs in his pocket and tosses keys at him, which Stiles automatically catches, “Sure.”

Stiles jaw nearly hits the floor as it occurs to him that Derek willingly handed over the Camaro keys, with a promise to let Stiles drive. He shouldn’t  say anything, shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but he’s never been very good at restraint.

“Holy shit, Derek, I meant drive my Jeep, but for real? Can I actually drive your car?” 

Derek glances back at him from his bedroom door, frowning, “Yeah. Unless you want to take the jeep.”

Stiles leaps to his feet and rushes past Derek, keys outstretched, “No way! Totally driving your car.”

He beats Derek to the Camaro, which is parked just down the street. He caresses the door as he unlocks it, and he barely manages to sit inside without crying tears of admiration. Derek looks annoyed from the passenger seat.

“Don’t crash it.” He commands.

Stiles laughs, “Don’t jinx me. Dude, we are _so_ best friends if you’re letting me drive this beauty.”

Derek is silent, but Stiles is positive he sees him crack a smile for a moment, and that’s enough to silence Stiles as well.

They pull up to the old Hale house without incident, and Stiles turns the Camaro off. He makes no move to get out of the car, just looks at where Derek is watching the front of his house.

“Come on. I can only do it here.” Derek says, and jumps out of the car. Stiles scrambles to follow, tucking Derek’s keys in his pocket. Derek is striding off beside the house, passing his sisters grave and heading into the woods behind.

Stiles catches up to him, “Where are we going?”

“There’s a place,” Derek says, “it’s near a creek up here. We used to have picnics and stuff. Spent a lot of time there.”

Stiles doesn’t push him for more, since this is more of Derek than he’d ever thought he would get. They make it to the spot Derek is talking about just as the sun is starting to dip towards the trees. It makes everything around them glow golden and orange. Derek looks magnificent, and Stiles hates that his heart stutters when he looks at him.

“Okay.” Derek stops him with an arm out, and he pulls off his shirt, handing it to Stiles.

Stiles nearly falls over at all the exposed skin, and that was before Derek started undoing his pants. “Jesus, Derek, warn a guy!” Stiles exclaims, spinning to put Derek’s getting-naked body out of sight. It’s kind of a travesty that he doesn’t get to see all of him, especially since he’s getting naked in the woods for what appears to be Stiles’ benefit, but Stiles isn’t willing to risk the smell of arousal and an awkward boner, and the end of Derek’s friendship.

“Sorry.” Derek mutters, “I can’t wear clothes. Hold them for me?”

It’s the request instead of the command that gets Stiles attention. Derek sounds... vulnerable. Nervous, even. “Of course,” he holds his hand out and Derek places still-warm jeans _and, jesus, boxers_ in his palm, “What are we doing?” Stiles is impressed his voice doesn’t waver.

“Um, I kind of... figured something out. I haven’t told Deaton yet, I just wanted to show you.”

Stiles turns to look at him and makes sure to keep his eyes directly on Derek’s, despite how tempted he is to take a good look. Could be his last shot to ogle someone as hot as Derek, ever.

“What do you mean? What did you figure out?” Stiles asks.

Derek flushes, and Stiles tries not to find it insanely sexy that his cheeks go as red as his ears, “The Hale’s were known well because my mother, Talia, she was unusual. She had a full wolf form.”

Stiles gapes, “You can go full-wolf! Dude, holy shit, show me, show me!” His embarrassment is forgot in the face of undeniable Stilinski curiosity.

Derek walks away from him a little ways, and Stiles absolutely cannot help himself when his eyes drop straight to Derek’s ass. He feels a little off balance, and he’s pretty grateful Derek’s moving down wind, since Stiles is positive he smells of _eau de turned on_.

Derek glances back at him, and without notice he kind of... bends his spine, and then he’s on all fours, and within seconds his features are morphing into the beta image Stiles has seen before, but then, as he gets used to it, Derek’s snapped straight into a huge black wolf. He looks the part of an Alpha: he’s huge and terrifying, and Stiles would be pissing his pants except for the fact that he _knows_ it’s Derek.

“Derek?” Stiles mutters, strangely nervous. The wolf snaps it’s eyes in his direction, and immediately starts to lope over to him. Stiles tries desperately to calm his heart, and he doesn’t move a muscle until the wolf is standing directly in front of him and waiting for him to make the next move.

“This is incredible,” Stiles says, his voice sounding odd in the coming dusk, “you know who I am.”

He kneels down then, setting Derek’s clothes to the side. He doesn’t reach out, because as tempted as he is to try to pet the wolf, he knows that it would be a stupid move. Just because Derek-the-wolf doesn’t want to kill him doesn’t mean he wants him to touch him. Derek in real life probably wouldn’t want Stiles to touch him.

Except, the wolf does touch him. It steps forward and nudges Stiles back until he’s sitting on the ground. Stiles raises his hands, unsure if he’s going for defense or offense, but the wolf just rubs his head against one of them, and intelligent red eyes meet his.

“Derek, dude, this is incredible.” Stiles says again, just in case Derek can hear him. Stiles gets why he was so nervous now, to show anyone. He’s terrifying, and he looks enough like Peter’s Alpha form that anyone would be frightened. Stiles isn’t really scared, hasn’t been since the wolf stared at him. Derek wouldn’t hurt him, wolf or otherwise.

He lets his hands rest on Derek’s fur, and he wishes he could fucking take photos of this moment, because this shit is _magical_. He scrambles for his phone, tugging it out of his pocket.

“Hey, come here. You want to see yourself when you’re back to normal, don’t you?” Stiles takes a few photos of Derek, even though the wolf stares him down like he’s completely exasperated by the human’s antics. “Come here, take one with me?”

Derek steps forward, hesitantly this time, and Stiles goes to his knees and flings an arm around the wolf’s back, grinning into his phone. The photo is hilarious, and Stiles wants to frame it.

“This is awesome,” Stiles lays down, letting Derek sit on his haunches by him, “thanks for showing me. This is the best day ever.”

Derek hunkers down next to him, and they stay there in the quiet of the forest until the sun is completely below the horizon, and the only lights come from the moon and the stars. Eventually, Stiles feels movement next to him.

“Pass me my clothes?” Derek mutters, and Stiles doesn’t turn to look, because he just knows Derek is ass naked on his back beside him. Way too many fantasies are going to be inspired by this day already. He grabs his clothes and hands them to him, sitting still as he pulls all his layers on.

Stiles sits up when Derek’s done, able to make out his face. “Wanna see the photos?”

Derek looks hesitant, “Yeah.”

Stiles pulls them out, hands his phone to Derek. Derek looks at them without any emotion, and when he’s seen all the images he frowns.

“You weren’t scared?” 

Stiles grins, “At first, yeah. You’re huge, dude! But, I dunno, your still you. You’re not scary, not to me.”

Derek smirks a little, “I am still me. I still understand what you’re saying.”

“Good.” Stiles laughs, “Thank you for showing me.”

Derek shrugs, self consciously, then: “I hang out with you more than anyone else, too.”

Stiles rises to his feet and grins at Derek, feeling like he could walk on cloud nine. It’s getting cold out, but he doesn’t really care. “Come on, let’s watch a movie or something?”

Derek frowns, “Like at your house? Or a theatre?”

Stiles nearly misses a step because no matter how many times he’s gone to the theatre with just Scott, going to the theatre for a movie with Derek sounds more like a date than bro time. “Up to you, I was thinking my house, but they’ve got that new superhero movie out that might be cool.”

Derek doesn’t say anything until they break free of the trees and his house is in view. He glares up at it for a moment, and then sighs. 

“Let’s go to the theatre.” He finally decides. Stiles stomach flips, and he pulls out his phone to find the showtimes instead of answering. The show isn’t on for another hour, but Stiles wants to go now.

“We have an hour.” He pulls Derek’s keys out of his pocket, and holds them out to Derek.

“You drive,” Derek cracks a small smile, as if he’s unwillingly happy about Stiles’ enthusiasm over his car, “let’s grab dinner first.”

Stiles slides into the driver’s seat, a little shell shocked. Dinner and a movie? This is totally date territory, right? Well, maybe not. Scott and him used to go get burgers and hit the movies. Hell, sometimes Stiles did that by himself when his dad worked late.

Stiles drives them to the same burger place, and they go in and sit at a booth and order burgers and chat like they do all the time now, and Stiles can’t help but think about the fact that only  few months ago Derek was an asshole. Or maybe he wasn’t an asshole, maybe no one ever gave him a chance.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Stiles says suddenly, mid-conversation about Erica and Boyd’s newest drama.

Derek looks surprised, “About what?”

“For when we first met,” Stiles explains, “I was kind of a dick to you. I probably should have given you more of a chance.”

Derek shrugs, “It’s okay. I was an asshole.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, “but your sister died and we fucking dug her up. Jesus, dude, why do you even let me in your presence.” Stiles is mad at himself, first for bringing up a bad topic over a dinner that was perfectly pleasant before this, and secondly for reminding Derek of all the reasons why a lanky teenager is probably a poor choice for a werewolves best friend.

Derek stiffens, but he still answers, “You didn’t know. It’s fine, Stiles.”

Stiles bites his cheek to hold back any other stupid responses, but he does reach over and set his hand on Derek’s briefly. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth.”

Derek’s hand doesn’t move under his, which is unexpected, but Stiles pulls back because he’s always been a long term planner --see the “seven year plan to get Lydia to fall madly in love with Stiles” folder in his computer-- and he’s willing to take the slow route with Derek. In fact, he’d prefer the slow route. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a shot with the werewolf in reality, but he’s also positive he’s Derek’s best friend, and that’s pretty good.

Derek pays, which sends Stiles’ brain into more confusing territory, which is absolutely not cleared up when Derek says only, “I owed you for all the pizza”. 

It’s true, Stiles has paid for a few pizzas that Derek and he have shared, but that absolutely does not clear up his clarification of whether or not this was a date, or if it was just a bro hang out.

They make it to the movie, and they both buy their own tickets, and Stiles chooses seats near the back in the middle. Derek sits next to him, and he doesn’t tell Stiles to shut up when Stiles murmurs which shows he wants to see next, and what he thinks of the previews. 

The movie is pretty good, and by the end of it even Derek has been coaxed to say a few words on the matter. They make it to the front entrance of the theatre, on their way back to the car where Derek is going to drop him off at home.

“Stiles?” Stiles turns to see Danny staring at him and Derek, “Your cousin is back in town?”

Derek immediately glares at Stiles, and Stiles flushes bright red, “Oh, um, actually Danny, this totally isn’t my cousin...”

Danny laughs, “I figured, my god, Stiles, people don’t _look_ at their cousins that way.”

Stiles nearly chokes, and the only thing that saves him from dying of mortification before looking at Derek’s face is Scott appearing beside Danny, “Stiles?”

“Scott?” Stiles manages to croak out. He is studiously avoiding Derek, who seems to be ignoring Danny’s comment, but his ears are red again.

“What are you doing here?” Scott frowns, “What’s Derek doing here?”

Stiles scowls, “Derek and I were hanging out. Saw a movie. What are you two up to?”

Scott shrugs, and Stiles is immediately suspicious, because he has known Scott McCall for years and he is a terrible liar. “Just seeing a movie.”

Allison, Lydia and Isaac appear at Scott’s shoulder, the girls looking surprised to see Stiles and Derek there. Isaac nods at Derek and then looks to his watch.

Stiles is floored, and he can feel anger burning through him. He feels Derek stiffen at his side, and he’s unsure if it’s because Derek didn’t expect to see almost every single person they know at the theatre, or if Derek’s angry on Stiles’ behalf.

“With everybody?” Stiles says, impressed he manages to keep his voice level and impassive.

Scott flinches a little, “I came to ask you after school, and you totally blew me off!”

“You could have asked in any of the other four classes we share, Scott.” Stiles hisses. He straightens minutely and turns to the other members of the group who are looking distinctly awkward, “Sorry, guys, it was good to see you.” He’s not mad at the others, not really.

He spins on his heel and heads to the door, not even certain if Derek is following. He is though, which Stiles figures out when a hand wraps around his bicep and jerks him to a stop. Stiles wants to snap at Derek for holding him back, but he swallows his anger at the look on Derek’s face.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks, and Stiles loses some of his anger in the face of Derek’s concern. Concern! From Derek!? 

Stiles frowns, “Yeah, I’m angry. I mean, I wouldn’t have gone anyway, we had plans, but I would have liked the invite.”

“I thought you knew.” Derek says softly, and Stiles eyes him. If Derek knew and chose to hang out with Stiles instead, that was interesting.

“You knew, too?” Stiles wonders, “I suppose Isaac invited you. Makes sense.”

Derek scowls, “He should have invited you, too.”

“He probably thought Scott would,” Stiles smiles self-deprecatingly, “I thought he would.”

“Isaac still should have,” Derek insists, “you’re pack.”

Stiles feels the rest of his anger drain away and he grins at Derek, “Hell yeah, I am. Come on, sourwolf, drive me home.”

Derek glares at him, but follows dutifully to the Camaro.


	2. All Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long update time! I had no internet for a while :( Next chapter should be up within a week.

Stiles makes it to school the next day with barely five minutes before the bell. He rushes to his locker, pulling binders out at random because he absolutely cannot get in trouble with Finstock again or his dad will kill him. He’s got his hands full of a textbook and a binder when Isaac is suddenly there, picking up some loose papers Stiles dropped.

“Hey,” Isaac says softly, “I wanted to say I’m sorry for not inviting you to the movie. I honestly thought Scott would.” His eyes are sad, and Stiles wonders if Derek put him up to this or if Isaac sincerely feels bad. 

Stiles shrugs, taking his books and papers from Isaac’s hands, “No worries, dude. Not your fault.”

Isaac smiles, “Thanks, Stiles. And don’t worry, Scott will come around on the whole you-and-Derek thing.”

Stiles grimaces, because he’s pretty sure that Scott’s going to be annoyed that Stiles didn’t tell him he was friends with Derek, but it’s been a while since Scott openly displayed his dislike of the Alpha.

“Thanks,” Stiles says, heading off to Economics where he sits beside Scott, as per usual. Scott looks like he’s been waiting for him, and his face is kind of a mix between a lost puppy look, and sheer annoyance; the expression isn’t exactly something Stiles hasn’t seen before.

“Stiles, I am sorry I didn’t invite you to the movie,” Scott starts, half whispering before Finstock starts his lecture, “I honestly did mean to in the parking lot.”

Stiles nods sharply. He knows he’ll forgive Scott, it’s impossible not to when he turns the full power of the puppy dog eyes at him; plus, Scott doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, he definitely didn’t mean to make Stiles feel left out.

“I figured. But come on, Scott, you could have texted me after I left.” Stiles replies.

Scott flushes, “I was mad, you know? You just blew me off, and I knew you weren’t telling me everything!”

“Scott, I don’t have to tell you everything.” Stiles hisses.

Scott rolls his eyes, “I know that, but dude, I can smell Derek on you, all over you, all the time! I knew you were hanging out with him, but you wouldn’t tell me.”

“You could have brought it up,” Stiles feels himself turning red; does he really smell like Derek? “you’re just usually with Allison, and we became friends.”

Scott heaves a sigh and glances over to where Finstock looks like he’s about to start the class, “Look, Stiles, I know I’ve been a bad friend recently, I do. But you’re my best friend, and you can tell me anything, no matter what. Plus, Derek’s been good recently, and it’s not fair to him that you’re hiding him, like you’re ashamed of him. He’s had enough of that before.”

Stiles feels himself blink, stunned at Scott’s words. He vaguely hears Finstock start yelling at the class, and Scott turns away to take notes. He’s been doing well in school recently, and Stiles can actually appreciate the effort he’s been putting in.

Stiles pulls out his phone after a few minutes because he honestly can’t wait any longer, and he immediately texts Derek, _‘dude, first of all, did you make Isaac say sorry to me? Secondly, I’m not ashamed of you.’._

Derek’s response takes so long Stiles is practically vibrating in his desk, and Finstock has rolled his eyes at him twice already. When the text does come in Stiles has to let it sit in his pocket for what feels like a year but is only actually ten minutes, because Finstock has called on him for three different answers. Eventually, Greenberg says something stupid, and Stiles is spared and pulls out his phone.

_‘No, I didn’t. And what the hell, Stiles?’_

Stiles isn’t even sure what to say to that response. Does he explain further or try to ignore the fact that he even said it in the beginning. Before he can even compose an answer Derek texts him again.

_‘Never mind, come over after school?’_

Scott is still staring at him with sad, puppy eyes, so Stiles decides to hold onto his anger a little longer and make him wait. Derek’s loft it is. Stiles has never been there to hang out, they always stay in his room.

_‘Sure, but I’ve got homework’_

He manages to focus on his classes until lunch time, and then he has to face his friends. In the end it’s way easier than he thought it would ever be. There’s a spot for him between Isaac and Danny, and Stiles is grateful they thought to put him between the two people he hadn’t ever really been angry with. 

He sits down with his tray and Isaac greets him; Lydia rolls her eyes at him which annoys him, but it’s still more acknowledgement than he ever got from her before. He’s actually pretty happy with the way things turned out between the two of them, especially since now he seems to be in the know on some of her inside jokes. They’re getting to be good friends, and Stiles doesn’t want anything more than that, not now. 

He tells himself it’s not because of Derek.

“Hey, Stiles, you wanna come over tonight?” Scott finally asks, from beside Isaac. His voice is quiet, and Stiles is grateful, because he doesn’t want to appear petty.

“Sorry, dude,” Stiles says, “I have plans, but I’m free tomorrow?”

Scott’s smile falls a little, but he nods anyway, “Yeah, tomorrow.”

The day goes by at a crawl after that.

 

* * *

 

Stiles is already in his jeep when Isaac catches up to him. He rolls down the window, and Isaac’s expression is somewhere in between a grin and an exact replica of Scott’s puppy face. Stiles is doomed.

“Hey...” Isaac starts, “I was just wondering, is Derek okay?”

Stiles shrugs, “Seems to be. Why?”

“I dunno,” Isaac glances at his feet, “has he said anything about me moving back in?”

Stiles stares at the top of Isaac’s curly hair and tries to figure out what the hell this conversation means. It hits him when Isaac finally makes eye contact again and it’s all hopeful eyes and pouting. Isaac wants to live with Derek again; Derek, who kicked him out, and has been suffering in loneliness ever since.

“Oh, dude,” Stiles laughs, “he would definitely be cool with you coming back. I’m sure of it.”

“But he hasn’t mentioned it?” Isaac sighs.

Stiles flails a little, “Not exactly, but I know that he’d want that.”

Isaac beams, “You could ask! You could ask him for me. He’d definitely say yes if you asked.”

“What makes you think that?” Stiles bursts out, incredulous. “Derek doesn’t listen to anything I say!”

Isaac rolls his eyes, “Yeah, right, Stiles. Please just ask him for me?”

Stiles is so beyond confused, but he manages a nod, “Uh, yeah? Sure.”

Isaac bounds away and Stiles finds himself driving away from the school, still bewildered, but happy to be heading towards Derek’s loft, finally. He makes it there in good time, without speeding --because come _on_ , dad is the Sheriff. Stiles parks around the side, and heads towards the loft. He clambers up the stairs, backpack and homework thrown over one shoulder.  

He doesn’t bother knocking, because Derek never does in his house, and by now Derek can most definitely hear him. Stiles walks in and is thrown again by how _empty_ the whole place is. It’s roomy, and Stiles has only been in the loft when death was threatening, but now he has time to look around and it’s just sad.

“Dude, we have _got_ to buy you some furniture.”

Derek appears from what looks like a door to the kitchen. He’s holding two plates and it smells incredible. “I hate shopping. Here, I made some nachos.”

Stiles drops his backpack and kicks off his shows, snatching the plate of cheesy nachos out of Derek’s hand. “Separate plates, this is awesome!”

Derek sort of grins, then, like he’s sharing a secret, and then heads over to the single couch in the whole place. They flop down on it, and Stiles throws his feet on Derek’s lap. Derek glares at them, but doesn’t make him move, and they crunch on their nachos.

“How was school?” Derek asks, and Stiles is struck by how absolutely bizarre it is that Derek asks questions about school and actually _cares_ now.

Stiles laughs, “Super awkward, everyone was nervous around me. Scott and I are hanging tomorrow though, so hopefully it’s cool.”

Derek nods. “You were with Isaac today.”

“Sort of, he came by to-- wait! You are absolutely not smelling me to figure that shit out, are you?!” 

“Yeah, you smell like him more than Scott, which is unusual.”

Stiles pulls a face, “Dude, so creepy. Scott said I smelled like you all the time and that’s how he knew we were hanging out.”

Derek frowns, “Yeah, what the hell is this about being ashamed of me?”

Stiles flushes to his hairline, “Oh my god, Scott said it! I don’t even know, he just looked all disappointed in me and said I shouldn’t be ashamed of you and I was so flustered! I’m not ashamed of you, jesus, I don’t even know what he’s talking about. What’s that even mean, to be ashamed of someone? That’s fucked up. You don’t think I’m ashamed of you, do you?”

Derek looks a little bit like he might laugh, which is _really_ weird, “No, but thanks.”

Stiles tries to roll his eyes but gets carried away and looks a but like an awkward bobble head, so he shoves another chip in his mouth. “I think Isaac thinks you think you don’t want him here which is a crazy thought that he’s thinking, but he thought to ask me to see what you’re thinking if you thought he should move back in.”

Derek actually chuckles at that, and Stiles nearly falls off the couch. “Stiles, use your words, that barely made sense.”

Stiles clears his throat and glares at Derek, “That made perfect sense. Isaac asked me to ask you if you wanted him to move back in. He wants to move back in, I think.”

Derek sobers, “Of course he can come home.”

“That’s what I said!” Stiles exclaims, “But he got all weird and told me to ask you anyway because you’d listen to me, but that’s stupid because of _course_ you want Isaac to live here.”

Derek glances away, “I want him here. I’ll talk to him.”

Stiles finishes his nachos, and then stands up, “C’mon Sourwolf, we do need to buy you some furniture, especially if Isaac’s coming to live here. Plus, if I’m hanging out here I need a table, at least.”

“Are you?”

Stiles flounders for a minute, “Am I what?”

“Hanging around here?” Derek looks strangely subdued.

“That’s kind of the plan?” Stiles says, “I’m thinking of doing some homework, we could watch a movie. It’s cool here, I like that you have your own place. I mean, we don’t have to explain anything to my dad this way.”

Derek frowns, “I think we should tell your dad.”

“About werewolves!?” Stiles yelps.

“No. I mean, we could. But we should tell him about me,” Derek rubs the back of his neck, “I mean, then I could come over and he wouldn’t think I was a murderer.”

Stiles nods slowly, “I’ll think about it. He’ll get over it, and he’ll be glad to at least have me tell him something true. For now, though, we have shopping to do.”

They clean up the plates and head to the mall nearby, and Derek doesn’t even complain when Stiles says they have to take the Jeep in case they buy anything. Stiles parks as close as he can get, and Derek rolls his eyes when Stiles gives himself a hi five for finding a pull through spot.

“C’mon dude, pull through’s are the best.” Stiles declares, “Now I can just drive out. Seriously, it’s the little things in life. Let’s go buy a bed.”

“A bed?” Derek asks, a frown pulling his eyebrows together. It’s a familiar expression to Stiles, but he knows now that this is only Derek’s ‘confused eyebrows’, not his ‘I will murder you in your sleep’ eyebrows, so he’s not too worried.

“Yeah, for Isaac! I’m assuming you have your own bed. We’ll need a bed and sheets and a kitchen table, and definitely a coffee table. Maybe another couch. Dude, do you have money? I know you said you had money, but you _did_ live in a train station for a while.”

Derek grimaces, “That was a mistake. And Isaac has a bed in the loft already, we just need bedding. Don’t go too crazy, maybe just a table and some bedding today.”

Stiles grins, “Sure, man, whatever you say.”

Derek leads him into a furniture store, heading towards the bedding department. As soon as he finds sheets and beds he looks lost, as if he’s never bought bedding in his life, and Stiles thinks that is probably the case. 

“Good news dude, I am a master shopper,” Stiles says, “I vote for a high thread count, cotton because werewolves run a higher temperature, and don’t cheap out on pillows.”

Derek nods, “Okay.”

Stiles starts snatching up different sheet sets before finally finding a reasonably priced one in a navy shade, “This one. Look okay?”

Derek shrugs, and hands Stiles a pillow that he found. It’s not too thin and squishes well in Stiles’ hands so he figures it’s good enough.

“Table!” Stiles exclaims, handing the pillow and sheet set back to Derek, “Here, you carry it, I’m a fragile human.”

Derek snorts, “Why doesn’t that occur to you when your life is actually in danger?”

“Did you actually just crack a joke?” Stiles replies, “Is this world ending?”

Derek hits him with the pillow, and Stiles thinks that it’s probably the most fun he’s had all week, and he’s literally furniture shopping. By the time Stiles has picked out a coffee table, a kitchen table, and a set of six chairs, he’s exhausted and hungry again.

They make it to the till, both of them with full arms because neither had enough foresight to grab a basket or cart. The cashier turns red at the sight of Derek, and Stiles can barely contain his laughter because he _knows_ how it feels to be sucker punched in the heart by dark hair and stubble.

“Will that be everything for you, sir?” Her voice is coy, and she’s actually quite pretty, and Stiles can’t figure out when he stopped thinking it was funny and started being annoyed.

“Yes.” Derek says, holding out a visa. “I want it all delivered.”

“No problem, should be there tomorrow.” Her name tag says Luisa and Stiles hates that she has a pretty name too, when he got stuck with one no one can pronounce. 

“Awesome,” Stiles interjects, “I can come by and help set up if you like.”

Derek smirks at him, “What about Scott?”

“I’ll come by after that.” Stiles promises, and Luisa clears her throat and draws their attention back to her. She’s holding Derek’s visa out for him, eyeing his name on the bottom.

“Derek, that’s a nice name. Are you sure I can’t help you with anything else?” Luisa smiles.

Derek glances at Stiles, and Stiles is pleased that he looks clueless about what the cashier is doing. 

“Thanks, but no.” Derek replies.

Luisa frowns, “Alright, have a good evening. Hope I can see you again, Derek.”

Derek doesn’t even acknowledge her, he simply sweeps the bags up that have all the bedding, and herds Stiles back towards the mall entrance.

“Let’s grab food.”

Stiles beams, “Thank god, I’m starving!”

Derek laughs a little, and Stiles is startled by the sound of it, “You’re always starving.”

They find the food court and Stiles thinks about the fact that Derek paid for dinner before the movie, and he wonders if there is a pattern. He wants Derek, he wants all of Derek. He wants his friendship, because as it turns out, Derek is kind of awesome, but he wants _more_. 

“My treat today,” Stiles declares, “cause no one puts up with me when shopping, I’m amazed at your patience, Alpha.” 

He’s teasing, but he knows his heart doesn’t skip because it’s the truth and Derek almost-smiles at him, “Thanks.”

They end up getting burgers, and Derek doesn’t even seem fazed when Stiles tries to talk and chew at the same time.

“Dude, I still gotta do my homework and you’re table isn’t coming in until tomorrow!” Stiles complains.

“I have a desk in my room,” Derek says, “you can use that.”

“Then can we watch a movie?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs, “Sure, but did you tell your dad you were out?”

“Yeah, sent him a text,” Stiles takes a fry, “he’s on a double so it’s all good.”

Derek hides what appears to be a smile in his burger, and Stiles realizes he is oh-so fucked. His heart starts racing, and Stiles wonders how in the hell he manages to fall for people a million times out of his league so often.

Derek glances at him, “Are you okay? Your heart...”

Stiles chokes on his fountain pop, “Oh, yeah, no, I’m good. I was just-” he cuts himself off, because anything he says will be a lie and Derek will _know_ he’s lying. “nevermind. It’s cool. Let’s go home.”

Derek smirks, but doesn’t question him and follows him out to the Jeep again. He doesn’t even complain when Stiles plays his music loudly and sings along off-key, and the stupid almost-smile never leaves his face, even when they argue all the way up to the loft whether or not Pearl Jam is an epic band or a terrible one --it’s _epic_ for the record.

Stiles kicks his shoes off and Derek throws the new sheets into a washer to get rid of the plastic smell to them. He grabs his backpack and finds the math homework he has; it’s not really hard, it won’t take him long, but he does have to finish it.

“Follow me.” Derek commands, and Stiles trails after him up the curly stairs. He’s never been upstairs before, and he has the feeling no one else has either. Isaac’s room is off the main floor living room area, and the upstairs only has one bathroom and Derek’s bedroom, so no one ever goes up there.

Derek’s bedroom is huge and open, and Stiles surprisingly doesn’t hate everything about it. There’s barely anything in it: a big bed in the middle with -surprise!- a black duvet and a desk off to the side that has nothing on it. There’s also a book shelf that takes up most of one wall, and Stiles is surprised because Derek has never really said anything about reading before, but the book shelf is full to the brim. There’s series and textbooks and mass market paper backs and DVD’s overflowing, and Stiles is immediately drawn to it.

“Dude, you _do_ know pop culture!” He exclaims and he can practically feel Derek roll his eyes.

“I took a few English courses through an online college program when I was in New York. Had to read a lot.” Derek explains, “I like TV too, you know.”

Stiles nods, “I do know, that’s how we first started hanging out. Doctor Who right?”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen all of it, but it’s good.”

Stiles glares at him, appalled, “You haven’t seen all of it! Who have you seen!?”

“Umm, I missed Nine, and I haven’t caught up for Eleven.”

Stiles flails a little and Derek takes a step back, “You can’t _skip_ Nine! Who are you!?”

Derek laughs, “We’ll have to watch it from the beginning.”

Stiles feels his heart jump a little at the idea, but he laughs to cover it, “Sure.”

He settles in at Derek’s desk while Derek lays on his mattress and closes his eyes. Stiles loses himself in numbers, which is one of the few things he can focus on for longer than three minutes, and by the time he’s done his homework Derek is rumbling. It’s not even a snore, it’s more like a purr, and Stiles wants to die with how obnoxiously adorable it is. 

He pulls out his phone and thinks about recording a video, but then decides against it. He doesn’t want anyone else to see this; Derek is relaxed, sleeping, and Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so content.

Stiles pulls out his laptop and grabs a DVD from the shelf and lays down next to Derek with the computer on his lap. One of Derek’s eyes opens a crack, but he doesn’t move and Stiles settles in.

“We’re watching Breakfast Club because it’s a classic and you own it so you must like it.” Stiles murmurs, and Derek doesn’t say anything but he curves his body towards Stiles, and keeps his eyes trained on the screen.

Stiles resolutely tries to only focus on the movie, even when Derek starts rumbling again, and he absolutely doesn’t think about the fact that Derek’s bedroom is for all intents and purposes his den, and Stiles is getting his smell all over it and Derek doesn’t care.

When the movie ends Stiles stands up, “Text me tomorrow when the furniture gets here, I’ll come help.”

Derek nods, “Okay. Night Stiles.”

Stiles heads out, and he keeps his mind as blank as he can until he’s back at home and tucked up in his own bed that feels too empty before he thinks about anything, and when he does think there’s only one sentence running through his brain.

_I think I’m in love with Derek Hale._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Come over and visit me on [tumblr](http://anyaparadox.tumblr.com/) :)


	3. In Your Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait :( this chapter is extra long for you. I hope you like it :) I love all the comments for this story, and I appreciate every reader: THANK YOU!

Stiles doesn’t wake up to his radio alarm the next morning; at first he thinks it’s the sound of rain hitting his window, but then he realizes his dad is standing in the doorway in full uniform.

“Stiles, get up,” he calls, “I made breakfast.”

Stiles stretches, “You’re not supposed to be home? Are you okay?”

His dad nods, “Yeah, of course, just needed breakfast.”

Stiles pulls himself out of bed, “No bacon. I’m getting dressed and I’ll come down.”

The Sheriff shuts his door gently, and Stiles throws on a clean t-shirt from his closet before stampeding down the stairs into the kitchen where his dad is sitting in front of a bowl of cereal. 

“Dad, you work way too much, for real,” Stiles rambles, pouring out some Cheerios, “what did you even eat last night?”

The Sheriff laughs, “Melissa brought me dinner, since it seems my only son forgot about me.”

Stiles freezes, “Oh my god, dad, I’m so sorry, was I supposed to bring in your dinner?”

“No, Stiles, but you haven’t missed bringing dinner to me on a double in the last two years, I was surprised.” The Sheriff frowns, and Stiles shoves a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, “I was also surprised to hear that you were shopping with Derek Hale.”

Stiles chokes on the cheerios, spluttering, “Derek... Hale... yeah, about that--”

“Stiles, I know he was cleared of all charges, but he’s--”

Stiles jumps to interrupt, “He’s _good_ , Dad! Honestly, he should have never been brought in under suspicion, he’s a nice guy, we’re friends. C’mon, I know you like to give second chances!”

“Stiles,” The Sheriff’s eyes are kind of crinkled, as though he’s having trouble not smiling at Stiles’ antics, “Stiles, I was only going to say he’s a bit old for you.”

“Old... for me?” Stiles says, a bit breathless, “Oh my god, Dad, we’re not _dating_ , we’re just friends!”

His dad rolls his eyes, “Stiles, no excuses. Derek comes over for dinner tonight, or you won’t see him any longer, and that is a promise.”

“Dad,” Stiles whines, “we are _not_ dating, I swear it on my life, honestly.”

The sentence weighs heavily in the bright kitchen for a moment, seeming to tremble under the weight of all the lies Stiles has told recently. Eventually, his dad nods somberly, “I believe you, Stiles, but I am concerned. Please invite him for dinner, I’m not working tonight, it’ll be a good time. I’ll be nice, promise.”

Stiles lets his head thunk to the table, but he manages to croak: “I’ll invite him.”

The Sheriff doesn’t say bye, just pats him on the shoulder and disappears, and Stiles thinks that his father might just be the coolest dad ever, but also the devil.

He pulls out his phone, ‘ _you got what you wanted: you’re invited to dinner tonight’._

_‘No way, not coming’_ Derek’s response is almost immediate and Stiles can’t help his laugh at the words. He can picture Derek’s scowl perfectly.

_‘Wish you had a choice, big guy. Dad’s invite, you gotta show or we’re banned from each other’._

_‘what a loss...’_ Stiles can literally sense Derek’s sarcasm through his text, and he fires off: _‘shut up, be here at 5’._

_‘I’ll be there’_ Derek sends back, and Stiles hates that his heart can’t help but stutter at the words. He leaves his phone on the table because he doesn’t have time to get caught up in Derek this morning, and goes to get all his school supplies together. 

Normally, Stiles doesn’t really mind school, but by the time he drives there and gets into class it feels like it’s going to be the slowest day of his life. He dutifully takes notes, and he lets go of the last vestiges of his anger over Scott, especially when he gets into his second block and Scott beams at him.

“You coming over after school?” Scott asks, and Stiles nearly smacks himself for forgetting he promised to hang out with Scott. 

“Yeah, definitely, but I can’t stay too long, I promised to have dinner with dad tonight... and Derek’s coming over to meet him.” Stiles adds. He figures it’s time that he was honest with Scott.

Scott’s eyes widen, “Are you telling him?”

“Not everything,” Stiles mutters back, “but he deserves to know who I’m hanging out with. I don’t want to lie about my friends, and he guessed it was Derek anyway.”

Scott nods slowly, “Derek’s probably nervous.”

“Yeah, but he wanted to meet him.”

Scott laughs under his breath, “That’s going to be so weird, man. Also, you smell weird.”

“What?!” Stiles yelps, “I do not!”

Scott frowns, “Yeah, like you, and a little like Derek... but also something else. It’s weird.”

“What the hell, dude!”

Scott grins at Stiles obvious panic, but doesn’t reply, even when Stiles throws a paper ball at him. The class goes faster than before, and Stiles decides it’s much easier to be bored in class when his best friend is there with him to provide some amusement.

Amazingly enough, Stiles gets through his last class without Finstock calling on him, which is a miracle in and of itself, although he does assign a paper that Stiles is willing to bet is going to ruin his life just a little bit.

Stiles texts Derek before he makes his way to the parking lot: _‘Dinner at 5, don’t forget. I’m going to Scott’s first to hang for a bit’_

_‘Sounds good. I’ll be at your place for 5.’_

 

 

* * *

Stiles has only been home for fifteen minutes when he hears the doorbell ring. His dad is in the living room, sipping on a beer and watching the game. Stiles races to the front door, because there is no way in hell he is letting his father meet Derek ‘officially’ without a buffer there. 

The first thing Stiles thinks is that Derek looks awkward on their front porch, holding a box of donuts; the second thing is: holy god. Derek is wearing dark blue jeans, and has exchanged his customary leather jacket for a soft looking grey sweater. Stiles kind of wants to peel it off his body in the most non-platonic way he can think of.

“I know you don’t like treats in the house...” Derek holds out the donuts and lets his sentence trail off. It’s just enough to get Stiles’ brain to kick back into gear.

“But you’re bribing my father, I see.” Stiles grins, and gestures for Derek to come inside. The tips of his ears are hilariously pink, and he kicks off his boots by the side of the door. Stiles tries not to laugh at the idea of Derek coming through his front door in a cozy sweater and walking around in plain white socks.

“Derek.” The Sheriff’s voice is quiet, and Stiles glances back at his dad in hopes that it reminds him to play nicely.

Derek shifts awkwardly, “Sheriff.”

“Call me John,” he says, “come on in. Stiles made lasagna, should be ready in half an hour.”

Derek follows Stiles into the kitchen, trailing after the Sheriff. The table is set in the corner, and the house smells like pasta and spices, in a way that Derek remembers from his own mother cooking. 

“You can sit here,” Stiles says, shooing him towards one of the empty chairs. Derek follows his orders, mostly because he doesn’t know what else to do. The Sheriff-- John... John sits across from him and watches Stiles scramble across the kitchen trying to find plates and cups.

“Derek... what is it you do?” John asks, and his voice is almost gentle, in a way Derek had never expected. 

He swallows, “Umm, nothing at the moment, actually. I took some courses in New York on photography.”

Stiles drops a plate loudly on the counter and whirls to face him, “What!? You never told me that!”

Derek flushes, “It’s not that important. I used to like it, took some courses, and then followed Laura back here and forgot about it.”

Stiles feels himself falter at Laura’s name, but his dad saves him by interrupting: “Are you living at the old house still, Derek?”

Derek shifts, uncomfortable, “No, I, uh, got a loft in town. Stiles was helping me get furniture yesterday, we’re going to build it soon.”

“Oh, damn, I forgot about that! We could go over later, if you want.”

Derek shrugs, “Up to you.”

Stiles sets down the piping hot lasagna in the middle of the table, ending the questioning look John was sending Derek’s way: “Dinner is served! It’s hot though, be careful.”

John takes a huge helping, and Derek follows suit; it smells incredible and he doesn’t miss the way Stiles’ eyes light up with pride at their portions. John grins at him and claps him on the back.

“Stiles is a great cook. This is one of my favorite things; he insists on me eating like a rabbit, and so most of his foods are too healthy for my taste but the lasagna is great.”

Stiles scowls, “It’s important to be healthy! The lasagna has real beef in it, so dad likes that, but it’s lean. The noodles are multigrain, and I make all the sauce home made, so no preservatives!”

Derek nods, “It’s great. I like pasta.”

The Sheriff sobers, “When Stiles’ mother passed, I wasn’t really up for cooking many things, but Stiles took to it pretty well. He makes this just like she did, but _apparently_ his version is better for my heart.” He rolls his eyes at Derek, as if including him in some private joke.

Stiles’ eyes are a little shiny, and he clears his throat, “This is the last time I feed you ungrateful creatures.”

Derek smirks, “I said it was good!”

A beeping fills the room, interrupting their easy banter. Stiles is amazed at how nice his dad is being, and he wonders if Derek mentioned Laura strategically, or if it was just luck that his dad realized how shitty his life has already been. He’d always had a soft spot for people in need.

“I’m being called in.” John says, “I’ll just finish my plate, and then head out. I’m sorry for cutting this short.”

“Dad, you just finished your shift this morning, it’s not fair you’re always working.” Stiles frowns. 

John shrugs, “I like to work. Thanks for dinner, Stiles. Derek, you’ll have to come over again.”

Derek visibly startles, as if he wasn’t expecting to be invited another time, “Oh, uh... thanks, John.”

John stands up to put his plate in the sink and Stiles beams at Derek, who looks incredibly hot all flushed with embarrassment. Stiles momentarily thinks about all the things he would do if he could rip Derek’s stupidly soft looking sweater off, and he cuts off that train of thought immediately, because he’s positive he reeks of arousal. Derek doesn’t glance at him though, he’s watching John thoughtfully as he leaves the house.

“I’ll be home tomorrow, Stiles.” John says before he leaves, “Under no circumstances does that mean you shouldn’t be home tonight.”

Stiles chokes momentarily, and Derek gapes for a moment before recovering: “I’ll drop him home tonight.”

Stiles lets his head hit the table with an audible clunk as his dad leaves, and he groans, “Oh my god, he’s never going to shut up about that.”

He feels Derek take his empty plate from in front of him and clean them in the sink, and he’s stupidly pleased to note that Derek ate all of the lasagna he took. Stiles sighs, pushes himself off the chair and finishes cleaning the kitchen with Derek’s help.

“Stiles?” Derek says softly after he finishes drying the last cup.

Stiles glances at him, “Yeah, what?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come to Deaton’s with me?” Derek falters for a moment, “You know, so I could show him the photos you took.”

Stiles feels warmth flood through him at the question, “Sure, let’s go.”

They take Derek’s camaro, mostly because it’s blocking Stiles’ jeep in, but this time Derek drives. The trip over is short, and for once Stiles doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence because he’s insanely focused on how relaxed Derek looks. It’s not just the car, Derek actually looks as though he’s enjoying himself. 

It changes when they get to Deaton’s though, because immediately Derek is distant, and Stiles can practically see the muscles in his back locking up.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Stiles asks, reaching out and putting a hand on Derek’s arm unconsciously. Derek glances down at Stiles’ hand as though it’s an alien object, but he doesn’t move or push him away. 

“Scott’s inside.” Derek says. He turns the camaro off, and Stiles lets his hand slide off his arm.

“With Deaton?” He asks, “He’s probably just volunteering.”

Derek shrugs; it’s angry, and he looks more like he’s going to battle than anything else, and Stiles burns with curiosity. Derek and Scott may not get along, but Derek has never reacted like this. Is this about the movies? Stiles is over that, mostly.

They make their way into the clinic, and Deaton greets them inside the door. He’s wearing his lab coat and a stupidly mysterious smile, and Stiles hates the expression on his face. Deaton is probably the least helpful person in the world, especially when you actually need help.

“Deaton.” Derek greets, “I have to show you something.”

Scott appears behind him, and Stiles is amazed to see that Derek can get more tense than before. 

“Hey Stiles,” Scott grins, “Derek.” His eyes are cautious, but not annoyed, and Stiles is glad that Scott McCall sucks at anger.

Deaton frowns, “Scott, thanks for your help tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Scott seems mystified at his dismissal, but he hops the counter and grins at Stiles. He bumps into him -- gentle; it had taken them a while to get the appropriate level of werewolf strength in their physical interactions so that Stiles wouldn’t get hurt. Scott has mastered the bro-hug, and Stiles returns it without thought.

Derek’s growl rips through the room, and Scott pulls away, his eyes lighting up. Stiles glances at Derek over his shoulder, and Derek has the grace to look slightly embarrassed: “Ignore me. Scott smells weird.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Werewolves and their noses, man. Scott was telling me I smelled weird today, too.”

Scott laughs, “Whatever, dude. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

He disappears after that, and Stiles is briefly jealous of werewolf speed, but then Deaton is lifting the counter’s entrance, and he follows Derek into the back room. It’s the same room that Stiles had once been prepared to cut off Derek’s arm, and it makes him nauseous to be in it. Derek seems to know what he’s thinking because he looks apologetic.

“Deaton, I have to show you something.” Derek starts, and looks to Stiles for support.

He takes pity on him, “Derek found out he can shift into a full wolf, so I went with him the other day and took photos for you to see. We were wondering what you could make of this?”

Stiles hands Deaton his phone, and Deaton flips through the photos. His face does something odd; as if he wants to smile but his mandatory mystery aura won’t allow him to break character.

“This is good, Derek. Your connection with the land is improving, you’re drawing strength from it as your family once did. You remember that Talia could shift fully, yes?”

Derek’s face could be made out of granite for all the emotion it’s showing, “Yes.”

Stiles scowls at Deaton, mostly because he should know better than to bring up Derek’s family. “So, what does it mean?”

“Derek will be stronger, more grounded. A solid connection with the land a werewolf resides on allows them to be an Alpha to be reckoned with; you should be able to sense the limits of your territory soon.”

Derek nods, “I can. I can feel where it starts and ends on all sides.”

Deaton is impressed, “I’m assuming you can also feel the presence of certain members of your pack, most definitely you can feel Stiles?”

Stiles snaps his eyes to Derek, who is scowling at Deaton. “Yes.”

“What? Can you feel Isaac?” Stiles asks, “Why me?” He glares between Deaton and Derek, but neither seem forthcoming in any answer. Deaton’s eyes flicker over him a few times, and he frowns.

“Derek, you have to-”

Derek spins on his heel, leaves the room without another word, and Deaton lets his voice fade out. Stiles doesn’t even know what to think at this point because Derek has been hostile before, but recently he’s been better, at least around Stiles.

Deaton shrugs, “Go after him, Stiles. I suggest you don’t go anywhere alone for a while.”

“What?” Stiles gapes, but Deaton turns away and starts fiddling with something behind him, and Stiles can hear the camaro start again. For the first time ever Stiles thinks he probably has better luck getting Derek to tell him something than Deaton, so he takes off towards the camaro.

Derek is sitting in the driver’s seat, and his hands are white knuckled on the wheel. He doesn’t say a word when Stiles gets in, even when Stiles stares at him expectantly. He peels out of the parking lot, tires spinning.

“Dude, slow down,” Stiles snaps, “vulnerable human, remember? What the hell is going on?”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

Stiles is furious: “No, no more ‘shut up, Stiles’! You can’t say that shit anymore! We’re friends, remember!? No take-backs! Tell me what the hell Deaton meant when he said you could _sense_ me?!”

“It’s the connection with the land, you’re a part of the pack-”

Stiles interrupts, “That’s _bullshit_ , you know I’m not part of your pack. You’ve never asked, I’ve never answered, we just mutualistically help each other sometimes! Also: why did Deaton say I shouldn’t go anywhere alone for a while?”

Derek finally, _finally_ looks at him, and his eyes are blood red: “Why do you think Scott said you smelled weird?”

It’s such a odd turn of conversation Stiles is briefly stunned: “Uhh, I don’t know. I hang out with werewolves all the time, it’s an off day when one of them isn’t smelling me-”

Derek’s face transforms in a heartbeat, and for a microsecond Stiles thinks that he’s angry with him, that Derek is mad about the other wolves smelling him, but then he’s shredding the seatbelt and launching himself on him, and before Stiles can say anything a truck smashes into the passenger side door; there’s a scream of metal on metal, and Derek is yelling, and Stiles feels the world compress into a tiny pinprick of light before there’s nothing at all anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize about the cliffhanger ending!! That was cruel of me haha! The rest of the story is 100% planned out and should be done by next week (fingers crossed!). Come say hi on tumblr at [anyaparadox](http://anyaparadox.tumblr.com/)!


	4. See Right Through Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for sticking with me through the longer than expected break! I officially finished all my university classes this week -- hence why I was so busy! There's only one chapter after this and it's almost finished -- there will be sexy times, so look forward to that! Anyway, hope you enjoy this, and come say hi (or bug me about updating!) on [tumblr](anyaparadox.tumblr.com) :)

The first thing he thinks when he wakes up is that he should be dead. He remembers metal screeching around him, and being tossed around like a doll, but he’s in surprisingly little pain. Stiles doesn’t really understand why until he remembers Derek’s panicked face lunging at him, and he realizes that Derek wasn’t attacking him, he was protecting him.

Oh, god. “Derek!” Stiles throws his eyes open even against his better judgement, and he’s rewarded with a stabbing pain in his temple, and a view of a musty room. Three men are around him, one slouched over on a chair, and the other two standing.

One grins at him, “He’s awake.”

Stiles scowls at them, glancing desperately around him until he realizes that these people -- these _hunters_ \-- think he’s a werewolf. Mountain ash circles his chair, and the chains around his wrists are obnoxiously heavy duty.

“There’s no way out,” the other man says, “it’s wolf-proof.”

Stiles manages to bite his tongue instead of telling them it’s not _human proof_ , but it’s a close call. Instead he glares as icily as he can: “What happened to Derek?”

The one on the chair sits up, and Stiles realizes that he’s in charge. “So the alpha is named Derek?”

Stiles curses himself for giving up even that much, and doesn’t say a word. The chains on his wrists are biting into his skin, but he tries not to show how much pain he’s in. A wolf would be healing as fast as the chains could hurt him.

Fuck. Was Derek healing? 

“We left him alive, you know,” the man says conversationally, as if he could read Stiles’ thoughts, “I mean, barely. He won’t live long enough to save you.”

Stiles brain flashes to thoughts of wolfsbane, and the way Derek was probably bleeding out in a ditch somewhere. No one was even looking for them!

“He’s strong.” Stiles snaps, and he doesn’t mean to say anything, doesn’t mean to give them the satisfaction, but he’s never been good at holding his words close to himself.

“Not enough for this,” the man retorts, “he’ll die, trying to drag himself closer to you, and his death will destroy his pack when they find him.”

Stiles’ mind trips on a few things in that sentence, so he chooses his words carefully, “He’s not stupid. He’ll heal before coming for me.”

The man’s jaw literally drops and he lets out an incredulous laugh. The other two men have taken to lounging against a dirty wall, but they don’t hesitate to include their own chuckles in with their leader’s.

“God, you’re almost as stupid as your alpha;” he mocks, “if you think he would do anything but drag himself towards his unclaimed mate you’re a fool.”

Stiles feels remnants of his past conversation with Deaton drift through his head, and he schools his face into the most neutral expression he can think of. It’s not exactly easy when the words _mate_ and _pack_ and _Derek dying_ are bouncing around his skull, but he’s a pretty good actor. 

“What makes you think I’m unclaimed?” He asks, and Stiles isn’t really sure if it’s curiosity about the whole thing, or if he’s just biding his time.

“You don’t act like mates.” The man says shortly, “Tell me about your pack.”

It’s not a question, and Stiles slams his mouth shut in the most stubborn way he can manage. 

“You think I’m fucking with you,” he snarls, “but I’ll kill you. You’re here only as leverage, other than that you’re disposable. Whoever your pack is, they’ll be crippled with no alpha and no alpha-mate.”

Sometimes Stiles wakes up in the middle of the night terrified because all he can dream about is Erica and Boyd screaming as he was tortured by Gerard. If these hunters think they can hurt him, they’re wrong; the thing that stung the most back then was not being able to help his pack. If what they’re saying is true, he can’t afford to die. However, if what Deaton said was true, Derek should be able to sense him. The pack will come for him, he just needs time.

Derek will come for him. The entire time Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek even wanted him around, the entire time he was offering friendship, Derek wanted more. Stiles hates that their lives are so dysfunctional he can’t even finish a healthy conversation and get a boyfriend in a car without getting kidnapped. 

“Try your best, assholes.” Stiles snaps, “You’re the worst hunters I’ve ever met; you’re not ready for my pack.”

The man steps forward and backhands him so hard Stiles tastes blood, and he feels his vision go a little blurry. It hurts in a way Stiles remembers, and he knows that the hunter is surprised by the way the cut on his face doesn’t heal. He backs up a step and glances at his hand as if it’s betrayed him in some manner.

“You didn’t do your research very well.” Stiles says, “I’m human. Kind of puts a whole damper on your hunter code, hey?”

The man steps forward again, “It doesn’t matter what the code says, you’re part of a werewolf pack, therefore you die.”

Stiles laughs, “Wow, the code has gotten even worse. I’m sure Chris Argent won’t be pleased to hear that.”

The man blanches for a moment, then pulls a gun from his belt and puts it against Stiles’ forehead: “You think you’re better than me? You’re fucking mated to a werewolf. A monster. I could shoot you where you sit and people would thank me.”

The two men sitting behind him jump to their feet, as if they’re about to stop their boss from doing something stupid. Stiles knows he’s the only thing these hunters have going for them, and they probably won’t kill him; it doesn’t stop his heart from racing in his chest at the feel of the cold metal resting on his forehead. If he dies before he gets to be with Derek he’s going to haunt these assholes for the rest of his undead life.

“I don’t have to shoot you to hurt you,” the man finally says, pulling the gun away from Stiles’ forehead. He tucks it back into his belt, and grins at Stiles before making a fist and throwing it into Stiles’ face.

Pain blossoms along his left cheek, and Stiles is waiting for the next blow but it doesn’t come. The windows smash open, and there are telltale snarls of werewolves; he can hear the twang of a bow, and gunshots.

His pack is here.

He can barely focus, blinking blood and sweat out of his eyes, but when he does manage to calm down he sends every single thought and belief into the mountain ash around him; it blows outward as if on a breath.

Stiles slumps further into his chair, exhausted even as a battle goes on around him. A hand snaps down on his arm, and he jerks his face up only to meet Isaac’s eyes.

“I’ve never been so glad to see you, dude.” Stiles breathes, “Where’s Derek? Is he okay? We have to find him!”

Isaac pulls at the manacle with all his strength, his hands burning at the mountain ash. It snaps in half, and he does the other one.

“Derek’s okay, he’s at the loft. He wanted to come here but Deaton put enough tranqs in him to keep him down for a bit. You should go there from here.” Isaac shakes his hands as if they hurt him, but he doesn’t take his gaze from Stiles. 

Stiles stands, a bit wobbly on his feet. Isaac grips him hard enough to hurt, and Stiles finally notices that he’s bleeding, “Isaac, are you okay? Jesus, man.”

Isaac frowns, “It’s fine, Deaton’s outside. He’s trying to keep the peace between us and Chris.”

“Chris is here?” Stiles wonders.

Isaac grins, almost proud, “Derek phoned him _first_.”

“What?” It’s like an alternate universe or something, but Isaac just gives him a look that seems to say that Stiles is an idiot if he thinks Derek wouldn’t do those things for him.

“I left your jeep outside, can you walk?” Isaac says instead.

Stiles pats himself down, noting the way his legs are shaking. He’s mostly okay, though; is eye is swelling shut, but he can make it to the loft. “I’m fine, you have to take me to Derek.”

Isaac keeps his arm wrapped around him and nearly drags him to the exit, face firmly in a werewolf snarl. Stiles can’t tell if there are enemies around, but Isaac never once lets go of him, even when they leave the warehouse and enter the cool air. 

His jeep looks like his salvation, sitting outside totally unharmed. Stiles feels a pang of grief for the camaro, it’s probably totaled.

“Oh my god, Derek’s gonna kill me for destroying his car.” Stiles mourns slowly. It wasn’t even his fault, Derek was driving, but still, Stiles had been distracting Derek.

Isaac laughs, “Pretty sure he won’t kill you, Stiles.”

He bundles him into the passenger seat, and Stiles can feel himself fade into a semi-conscious slumber as Isaac drives. His head is pounding, and he can feel his cheek swelling, but in reality he’s lucky to be alive. He prays Derek will be okay when he gets there.

“Isaac...” Stiles says softly, “Isaac, is Derek okay?”

Isaac glances at him, “He’s not great, but he’ll be fine. He was lucky, for once. I was out and smelled blood, found the smashed up camaro. Must not have been ten minutes after they took you. I got him to Deaton, though he argued the whole time. He knew exactly where you were though, which was lucky.”

Stiles feels a smile spread across his face, because _now_ he can appreciate it. Now that he’s safe, if a little bruised, he can appreciate the fact that Derek wants _him_. Derek wants to be with him; he’s Derek’s mate.

“You just left him at the loft?” Stiles asks abruptly, thinking about how Derek’s sitting in his stupidly dark room all alone and in pain.

“We didn’t have much choice,” Isaac rolls his eyes, “he wanted to go after you so we had to tranq him, and then we had to make sure we got you.”

Stiles flushes, “Sorry, I know, I know... I just... want to see him.” 

Isaac doesn’t say a word about the redness in Stiles’ cheeks, and he thinks that perhaps Isaac is a better friend than he ever gave him credit for. They park outside the loft, and Isaac helps him out of the jeep. The elevator is a blessing when Stiles finally gets in it, and he rests against the wall. 

The doors open into Derek’s loft, but Isaac doesn’t move. “I can’t be in there right now, Alphas don’t like to be vulnerable.”

Stiles bites his tongue and doesn’t say a word about how he’s allowed in the loft and near Derek, but Isaac isn’t. Instead he thanks him and shuffles out of the elevator and into Derek’ kitchen.

The table they bought is sitting unassembled in the dining area, and it feels like seven lifetimes ago that Stiles was coming over here to help him set it up. He yanks the freezer door open and nearly cries in relief at the sight of the blue ice pack; he scoops it up and pours two glasses of water and starts to make his way up the stairs to Derek’s room.

The door is shut, and Stiles thinks back to only a few weeks ago when Derek seemed a terrifying menace in his life. Stiles is more grateful to stupid texting mishaps and Doctor Who now than he thought he would ever be. Behind the door is Derek Hale, who somehow managed to become one of his best friends, but also his mate. Or so he’s been told... by everyone except said mate. 

Stiles has been called many things, but never a coward; he heaves a breath out and opens the door.


	5. Love You Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Happy (belated) Valentine's Day! Sorry I was one day late on this chapter, turns out I had Valentine's plans after all (Woohoo!). Hope you like this final chapter of Thank You, Rose Tyler. I should warn you... this gets a little porn-y, and it's REALLY long ;) Enjoy!!

  **Chapter 6: Love You Still**

 

Derek’s room smells a bit like a hospital, and it’s just enough to send Stiles’ heart racing. Derek is nothing more than a lump in the middle of the bed, and Stiles can remember nights just like this one, sitting beside his mother with a cool rag.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice surprises him so much he nearly drops his ice pack. He seems delirious more than anything, but Stiles finally takes a few steps forward and makes his way over to the bed. Derek’s eyes are open, but not red; Stiles sets his water on the night stand. 

“Hey Derek.” Stiles murmurs.

Derek half-heartedly surges towards him, “Are you okay?” He’s pale and shaking, and Stiles thinks that for once he might be in better shape than Derek.

Stiles presses down on his shoulder gently, “I’m fine, you’re the one who took the brunt of the car crash. Are you okay? You look terrible.”

Derek grins, and the sight is so ridiculous Stiles can’t think for a moment, “I’m great. Deaton gave me stuff.”

Stiles scowls, “You’re high as a kite, aren’t you?”

“Noooo, I’m fine.” Derek frowns, “Is the pack okay? Did they get you out?”

Stiles reaches over and sets his hand on Derek’s forehead under the guise of checking his temperature; werewolves naturally run hot, and Stiles mostly just wanted to push Derek’s hair out of his face. Still, his skin does feel a little clammy, but it might be the effect of the drugs.

“They’re fine, they got me out. Isaac brought me here.” Stiles says softly, “Thank you for calling the Argents.”

Derek sighs and closes his eyes at Stiles’ touch, “You’re welcome.”

Stiles pulls the covers back and slides under them, resting the ice pack on his sore cheek. Hopefully he won’t have too bad of a bruise, there’s already going to be hell to pay with his dad.

“Is this okay?” Stiles asks after he’s settled down beside Derek. He’s not touching him, even though he wants to. He’s not sure if Derek’s there yet, and he’s by far too drugged out to tell him.

Derek nods, and reaches a hand out to rest on Stiles’ chest, just over his heart. He doesn’t move any closer, and his hand burns like a brand through Stiles’ shirt. His eyes are closed, and for a wild second Stiles remembers how Isaac said Derek was vulnerable and didn’t want any other werewolves around.

“I thought werewolves couldn’t be drugged?” Stiles whispers.

“Tranquilizers,” Derek answers, barely awake, “for wolves. Works on us.”

Stiles watches, fascinated, as Derek falls asleep, his hand still stretched out to his chest. His breathing slows down, and all the stress that sometimes gathers around his eyes and shoulders fades away. 

Stiles thinks he falls in love with him in the moment right between sleep and wakefulness, when all he can hear is Derek’s breathing, and he knows that somehow Derek managed to learn to trust him over anyone else in the world. 

Derek is the one who wakes him up what seems like only minutes later, but in actuality it’s closer to two hours. Stiles is suddenly immensely grateful his dad works so much, even if he thinks it’s a bad thing the rest of the time. 

“You look better.” Stiles murmurs when he finally opens his eyes to find Derek. His skin is still pale, but he’s not shaking anymore, and his eyes are normal and lucid.

Derek sighs, “I feel like shit.”

Stiles laughs, “I imagine. You got taken out by a huge truck.”

Derek heaves a huge breath, “Yeah, that sucked. Your face looks bad.” He’s staring at Stiles’ bad cheek as though it’s the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

“Got smacked around a bit, but it could have been worse.” Stiles reassures him, “The pack got there just in time. But, dude, I’m sorry about your car.”

Derek shrugs, “It’s okay. Just a car.”

“It wasn’t just a car,” Stiles scolds, “I know it was Laura’s, and you loved it.”

Derek’s silent for a long time, but when he answers his eyes never leave Stiles’, “Well, like you said. It could have been worse.”

The room is dark, the loft is silent, and Stiles thinks he might have a heart attack right there in Derek’s bed, and all they’re doing is staring at each other. Derek looks almost amused, and Stiles wants to hit him because he _knows_ Derek is listening to his heart.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks, “Your heartbeat-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Stiles interrupts.

Derek frowns, “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Stiles repeats, “That I’m your mate.”

“You didn’t want me.”

Stiles can’t help it, he reaches an arm out and smacks Derek, “You didn’t even let me decide that for myself, asshole! I did want you - I _do_ want you! You never even said a word, and I _know_ you can smell that I’m attracted to you.”

“Attraction doesn’t always mean you actually want to be with that person.” Derek murmurs, and Stiles feels his heart slow a bit because this he can deal with. He was the first one to even figure out the whole Kate thing, and he knows that Derek’s still hung up on it, and probably always will be.

“I want to be with you.” Stiles says, and he focuses on the way his heart is steady when he says the words. By the way Derek’s eyes flare red and focus on his chest it seems Derek notices it too. 

“I want to be with _you_ , Derek.” Stiles repeats, “I had to find out from hunters that I’m your mate. How unfair is that?!”

Derek flushes, “I’m sorry.”

“Holy shit--” Stiles breathes, “Did Derek Hale just apologize?”

Derek reaches over and fists his hand in the material of Stiles’ shirt, yanking him in. Stiles is suddenly pressed up against every inch of Derek’s body, and he completely loses track of whatever argument he was presenting.

Derek kisses him, and Stiles is so unprepared it’s ridiculous. When he thought about Derek kissing him --and that thought occurred to him basically on a daily basis--, he had never imagined that Derek would reel him in slowly and kiss him softly. Derek kisses him like he’s never going to be able to get another chance; he licks into his mouth and runs fingers through his hair.

He only releases Stiles to breathe, and even then he buries his face into Stiles’ neck and inhales.

“I have got to help you build that table.” Stiles declares when he can finally think and talk again.

Derek huffs against his skin, “What?”

“We have to build the table, because I’m pretty sure 85% of my fantasies involve a surface at that particular height.”

Derek pulls his face away and fixes a scowl at Stiles, “Did you make me buy a table so that you could use it in your sex fantasies?”

Stiles smirks, “They aren’t gonna be fantasies anymore, sourwolf.”

Derek leans back in, and this time he piles kisses on him, faster and faster until Stiles can’t think about anything else. They’re racing a mile a minute, and Stiles gets his hands under Derek’s shirt and manages to pull it off.

He freezes, then, because for all that Derek heals quickly he has bruises and cuts all over his torso, “Derek, holy shit, are you okay?”

Derek rolls his eyes, “It’s just bruises, Stiles.”

“Yeah, sure, _now_ ; but why aren’t you healing?”

Derek catches his hand, squeezes it, “I am. It’s just taking a bit.”

Stiles searches his eyes for the truth of his words, and when he finds it there he leans forward and kisses the skin over Derek’s heart, marred with a blue bruise. Derek flinches, but Stiles knows it’s not because he’s hurt him. Derek’s not used to softness, all he’s ever known for as long as he can remember is death and betrayal and ashes; Kate burned through his life like a wildfire, and Stiles can’t imagine that she ever paused to be gentle, or slow with him.

Stiles smiles, “Dude, I’m not gonna lie to you, I am so one hundred percent down with anything of the sex variety, but I’m not here for that. Or, I’m not here just for that. I’m here for you, you know?”

Derek glances away, nods once. Stiles rolls his eyes and snatches at his hand, “I’m serious, dude. I told you already, I want to be with you. That’s not just sex. You’re my best friend, and you know it. I know that you have issues because I’m young, but I’m not going anywhere.” Stiles swallows heavily, because the air between them is filled with Kate and he _hates_ it, feels singed with it, “Derek, I’m not her, and more importantly, you’re not _her._ I know that.”

Derek’s eyes are lit red, and Stiles isn’t sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but he knows Derek won’t hurt him. He knows because the Hunters were sure of it, and he knows because Isaac wasn’t allowed inside, but he’s here, pressed against Derek’s skin in his bed. He knows because he’s spent a lot of time in Derek’s room and life, and there’s no way Derek would let his scent get all over his den if he didn’t think of him as _his_ in some way.

“You listen to me, Hale.” Stiles snaps, “You don’t let Kate get in the way of this. I’m yours, and we both know it. I don’t want to sit here when we both want the same thing, because those hunters said I was unclaimed and that’s _bullshit_. I love you.” 

Derek curves back towards him, pressing him into the mattress. For the first time ever Stiles feels like he’s got the same advantage as Derek because he can feel his heart thundering in his chest from where his hand is pressed.

“You love me?” Derek asks, and Stiles feels the oddest sense of pride in his heart because no one, not even Kate, was allowed this. No one except Stiles has seen this part of Derek, and no one ever will if Stiles has his way.

Stiles curls around him, lets every inch of his body find a part of Derek’s to cling to. “Yeah, big guy. I totally do. And obviously, you love me too, right?”

Derek doesn’t say anything but he kisses him again, and this time there’s no stopping, it’s all _green-go-full-speed-ahead_ and Stiles feels lightheaded. Derek strips his shirt off of him, his face darkening with anger at the bruises Stiles also carries, but Stiles doesn’t let him stop.

He lets his hands slide into the sweats Derek is wearing pushing them down. Derek pants into his neck, letting his mouth slide over his skin. Stiles can feel just the smallest hint of fangs, but for the first time in what feels like forever, Stiles isn’t scared of being bitten, of being turned, because Derek wouldn’t do that to him.

Derek pulls Stiles’ pants off, and then both of them are so naked Stiles can feel just the stirrings of panic in his chest. Derek stares at him for a moment, and it’s so not fair, because the lighting is just dim enough that Stiles can’t really see the glorious-ness that is Derek Hale, but he knows damn well that Derek can see every inch of his body. Which, is not necessarily a bad body, but at the same time, Derek is a wall of muscle and broody eyes and perfect tousled hair.

“Stiles.” Derek’s murmurs his name like a prayer, “Stop panicking.”

“I’m not panicked, who said  I was panicked, shut up, Derek.” Stiles gasps out. He feels Derek shake a little against him and it takes him a second to realize Derek is laughing silently. “Don’t laugh, dude, you know I’ve never done this shit before, and you’re -- you, you know, with the stupid muscles and the hair-- and I’m just--”

“Mine.” Derek breathes against his ear, “You’re mine. You’re mine, and I’m a werewolf, and you’re being stupid because you know there’s nothing about you I could ever dislike.” His words end in a growl, and it kind of cuts Stiles off in his panic. 

“That kind of implies you have no choice, dude, which is-” Derek kisses him mid-sentence, and Stiles can feel his own lips turn up into a grin at Derek’s annoyance. 

“Stiles,” Derek snaps, “you know how a werewolf gets -- I mean, have you _met_ Scott and Allison?”

Stiles feels a little winded, “You do love me.”

Derek softens a little, “I thought we established that.”

Stiles winds his hands around Derek’s neck; drags him into a kiss that’s almost unlike the other before, because this time he can feel everything, every inch of Derek’s skin. They’re both hard, and breathing heavily, and Stiles lets his hands roam down Derek’s back in gentle imitations of claws.

Derek reaches a hand down and wraps it around them both, jacks them slowly in a way that makes Stiles feel like his blood is on fire. He’s gasping for air, and Derek is licking a stripe up his throat.

“Fuck me.” Stiles says, and Derek freezes, “I’m serious, Derek.”

He groans under his breath in way that kind of implies he’s over their argument and age gap, and then he reaches over Stiles’ head to find the nightstand. 

When he’s back he’s entirely focused on Stiles and his eyes are burning red. Stiles hears a snap and then suddenly Derek is pressing a finger into him and kissing him. 

“Come on, more,” Stiles demands, and Derek obliges, sucking a hickey onto his neck as he pushes in another finger, and then when the burn turns electric he follows with another. Stiles feels like his entire body is going to vibrate out of his skin, and when Derek sinks his all-too-human teeth into his shoulder to mark him he barely restrains a shout.

“I’m ready, Derek,” Stiles whines, “Come on, fucking move.”

He almost cries when Derek’s fingers leave him but then Derek’s pushing into him, and he can hear himself whimpering in an almost embarrassing manner, but Derek is rumbling, but it’s not laughter this time. 

“You’re mine.” Derek snarls, and Stiles feels something build inside him when Derek hits his prostrate again and again until it’s suddenly too much and he feels like he’s falling and exploding all at the same time. He comes all over their stomachs, and Derek sinks into him one last time before he finally stills.

“Holy shit.” Stiles breathes, “I think you killed me, in like, the best possible way.”

Derek lets his hand run all over Stiles’ torso, which is kind of gross, but Stiles can’t possibly move even if he wanted to. It’s not like he’d refuse Derek anyway.

“You just can’t be quiet.” Derek observes, but his voice is soft and Stiles thinks that maybe he sounds fond.

“Nope,” Stiles grins, “and you knew that going in.”

Derek slides down his body and suddenly he’s licking the come that’s left on Stiles, and all the breath whooshes out of his lungs.

“Wow, dude, I need like five minutes,” Stiles declares, “and then I am so down.”

Derek rumbles again, and Stiles nearly bites his tongue off instead of saying that Derek purrs like a cat, because he _knows_ Derek will never do it again if he points it out. Instead he lays there silently, letting Derek’s tongue travel all over his skin as though it’s memorizing it. 

Derek appears from under the light sheets, and it’s ridiculously adorable how he stares up at Stiles and flushes: “Can I...” he trails off and looks embarrassed, and Stiles desperately wants to hear what he wants to do, but he also knows that Derek isn’t very good at words.

“Dude, I’m yours,” Stiles teases, “you can do whatever.”

Derek goes bright red for a moment but then he’s flipping Stiles over gently, and Stiles heart suddenly goes into overdrive for a moment because he _knows_ what Derek wants now, and it’s confirmed a second later when Derek starts fitting his fingers back into Stiles. It feels good, even if he’s a little sore, and Stiles lets himself bite down on Derek’s pillow.

“Wow, you’re all about the scent, huh?” Stiles murmurs, and he’s a bit too breathless for it to be teasing. Derek gently nips him on the thigh, and he squirms with red hot desire.

“I’m claiming you, dumbass,” Derek says, “you told me to. It’s all about the scent.”

Stiles laughs, “Oh, so the bite was just for fun?”

Derek snorts a laugh into his skin, “It _was_ fun,” he admits, “But it also marks you.” He lets his fingers smear his come all over Stiles skin, and Stiles absentmindedly worries he might pick up an absurd fetish from this type of thing, but he figures he’s probably stuck with Derek now so it’s fine.

Eventually Derek stops moving, and just rests his cheek at the base of Stiles back. Stiles is almost lazily hard now, and he’s not sure if he wants to do something about it or have a quick nap first, but he figures Derek’s content to smell them together.

“I have to call my dad, eventually.” Stiles tells him softly.

He can feel Derek’s huff, “Don’t bring your father up at this time. But yes, call him. Later, though?” It’s almost a plea and Stiles softens.

“Later.” he agrees.

They’re silent for a long time, and Stiles has almost dropped off to sleep again when Derek finally slides back up his body and rests beside him, his hands reaching out instantly as though they can’t stand to be parted from his skin.

“There’s a Doctor Who marathon on later.” He whispers into the shell of Stiles’ ear.

Stiles laughs, “That’s the weirdest foreplay ever. Where did that even come from?” He rolls over and stares at Derek’s stupidly mussed hair and the grin he has on his face. It’s beautiful, and Stiles’ heart hurts in a way that he wants to feel forever.

“I was thinking -- that’s what started this, right? A stupid text.” Derek blurts out, his ears going pink, “And, you know, I’m stupidly grateful for your spazzy texting skills.”

Stiles beams at him, “Yeah, and I guess a big thanks to the whole Rose and Ten thing, hey? Even though I’m mad about that.”

Derek scoots in closer and sets his lips above the imprint of his bite that marks Stiles as his and whispers, “Thank you, Rose Tyler.”

Stiles has never been happier.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it, I hope you all liked the story! Keep on the lookout for my next (long) story, which involves slave!Derek and witch!Stiles, and a LOT of world building! Please come by and say hi on[tumblr](anyaparadox.tumblr.com), even if it's just to annoy me about my writing progress, or better yet, come and write with me! :)

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to write this as a short oneshot to thank my followers on tumblr, and this happened haha. The next chapter should be up in a few days. Come say hi on [tumblr](http://anyaparadox.tumblr.com/) :)


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